Permission
by EllieRose101
Summary: "I am not telling my friends about us. You wanna tell them so badly? Go ahead… I'm thinking, sleeping with you? They'll deal." Oh, the things that can happen when Spike takes Buffy at her word. [Set during Entropy – Season Six, Episode Eighteen.]
1. Part One

First Stop: Magic Box

Fuming after his latest fight with Buffy, Spike stomped around several of Sunnydale's various graveyards, hoping for something to kill. When that was a bust, he headed to the Magic Box to seek answers there.

"I mean, you'd think I'd be used to it by now, right?" he said to Anya, who nodded her head distractedly at him.

"Wait. Who are we talking about?" she questioned, realizing that his rant had paused, awaiting a more satisfactory response.

"Just the bane of my bloody life," he groused. "We fight all the time, how come she can still get under my skin? A splinter, that's what she is." He mimed picking at the skin of his finger and flicking away the irritation.

Anya frowned. "Oh, Buffy," she said, after a moment.

Spike almost fell off his stool at the counter as he looked around for the Slayer, which made Anya giggle at him. "No, stupid, I mean you're talking about Buffy, right?"

"Err…" Spike licked his lips. Clearly the alcohol Giles had hidden away was strong stuff, and he must have drunk more of it than he'd realized, because said lips were becoming perilously loose.

"Come on," she continued to press. "It's _so_ obvious."

Taking a second look around the store to make doubly sure they were alone, Spike whispered, "Is it?"

"Please! Someone you fight with literally all the time – who else could you be talking about?"

"Well, uh…" he stammered, the words trailing off again. Aside from Buffy, the only other obvious answer would be Angel, but Spike had already let that scapegoat out of the pen by using female pronouns. "Bugger," he said, finally.

Taking another shot, Anya giggled again and Spike found himself joining in. They clinked glasses, draining the last of the bottle, and sat in companionable silence for a minute. After that, Spike's smile faltered. He sighed, groaned, and then laid his forehead against the glass countertop, cursing his stupidity.

"Ah, you're not that bad," said Anya. "Now, Xander? He's really dumb."

Spike looked up again and grinned, briefly. "Got that right," he agreed before sighing again. "Look, you won't tell anyone, right? About me an' the Slayer?"

Anya tilted her head at him a little, the way a dog does when it hears an unfamiliar sound for the first time. "Why not?"

"Why not?!" Spike repeated, the words coming out louder than he intended. He blinked at the noise. "Bloody hell! _Because_!"

"Because why?"

"Because –" he stated again, more forcefully than before, certain that Buffy had provided him with a long list of reasons why they couldn't be together and certainly couldn't tell anyone about their extensive not-being-together, but not being able to recall a single one. None of them had ever made any sense to him, anyway.

Searching his mind, Spike did remember the last thing she'd said to him – the words that had sent him right over the edge and into a drinking competition with the Scooby Gang's very own vengeance demon.

 _You wanna tell them so badly? Go ahead… I'm thinking, sleeping with you? They'll deal._

Spike grinned to himself. Now he thought about it, her words had been an excellent stroke of luck, not something he should be wasting time getting pissed about. "Wait a minute," he said to Anya, mentally tying together the ends of his new plan.

"You've already been spaced out for like two already, but whatever," she replied, pulling a duster seemingly out of thin air and wiping Spike's forehead mark off the glass between them to pass the time.

When she looked up again, Anya was surprised to find Spike leaning forward, pressing his lips quickly to hers and exclaiming, "You're great, demon girl!" as he headed for the door and his next port of call – The Bronze.


	2. Part Two

Two Blokes, Chatting

It was a fairly safe bet that, on any given evening, at least one of the Scoobies could be found in The Bronze. This night, that Scooby was Xander.

Walking in the night air between the store and club had sobered Spike up somewhat, but he still felt a little giddy upon seeing the carpenter bent over his drink as if he wanted to disappear inside.

Spike was going to enjoy this.

"So," he began, startling the carpenter as he pulled up a stool next to him, "How's single life working out for you, mate?"

Xander narrowed his eyes but, unusually for him, didn't strike back with a retort, witty or otherwise. Well, that just wouldn't do. After ordering them a beer each, Spike tried once more to get a rise out of his new drinking buddy.

"Say, seen any good movies lately? I think they should remake _Runaway Bride_ , switch the genders around to modern it up."

In a much softer voice than Spike would have thought possible, Xander said, "Go away." Then, after a minute, he actually added, "Please."

"Well, fuck," Spike replied, now fully sobered, "I didn't know it was that bad." Xander didn't reply, making Spike feel concerned about him for the very first time ever.

Gravely, Spike considered that Xander might be on the verge of doing something stupid. As much as that stirred him, which was admittedly not an insubstantial amount – having been there himself – the knowledge of what it would do to Buffy really made him sit up and be serious.

In the time it took for the beer to arrive, the game had switched from making the carpenter lose his mind to ensuring it stayed intact as long as possible.

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered to himself, as reality sank in further. Now he thought about it, telling the Slayer's mates only to have them react angrily wouldn't be any better than keeping the whole thing schtum.

Frantically, he tried to amend his plan so that the truth would be both out and well received. It was a big ask, he was certain of that. And Xander was the person most likely to take it worst of all. Given his state of mind, Spike began to wonder if maybe it would be best to leave it. As he thought that, the thought that followed – about how unbearable life would be without Buffy – made Spike's guts clench.

Xander groaned, bringing him out of his reverie. "What do you want?"

"Uh…"

"Did Buffy send you here?"

Spike blinked. "What?"

"I thought, maybe…" he looked away. "Nevermind."

"Look, Harris," Spike began, not knowing how to continue. He grunted and rearranged himself on his stool. "How about, just for once, we be civil and have a chat?" Forcing a grin, he added, "I won't tell the birds."

"Civil?" Xander repeated, chewing the word over in his mouth. "You decide this after insulting me?"

Spike's grin slipped. "Well, yeah," he said, lamely. "Maybe if we just have a go…" he trailed off again, cringing at how badly he was ballsing everything up.

"Why are you here?"

"To, uh, cheer you up?"

Xander looked at him suspiciously. "And that's not because Buffy asked you?"

The Vampire looked genuinely perplexed. "Why do you think she'd send me?"

"You two have been close, lately. Don't think we haven't noticed."

"Close?" Spike stuttered, making Xander wave a hand.

"Don't ask me. I don't get it. You've just been hanging out, right? Talking?"

"Uh, sure," Spike agreed, clearing his throat. "How have you guys been since, um, well… _since_?"

"Since she finally confessed what we'd done? Oh, great. I mean, as far as I know. I was so caught up with the wedding stuff, and then," he waved his hand again, abandoning the sentence.

"Everyone's been havin' in rough," Spike summarized.

"Not you," said Xander, which made him bark a laugh. "I'm serious. Buffy talks to you. Not even _I_ wanna talk to me. I'm officially more lame than a fangless fiend."

Spike briefly flashed his bumpies, affronted, but he couldn't deny that he did feel pretty lame, if only to himself. "Everyone's been having it rough," he said again. "The Slayer's still dealing. You can't expect her to be of much help to anyone else at the mo'."

"See?" said Xander, making Spike give him a quizzical look betraying the fact that he, indeed, did not. "Buffy's still suffering. I didn't even know that. But of course you do."

That made Spike flounder again. "Don't think I'm such a good friend," he said, finally.

Xander made a non-committal noise. "You're not so bad. Maybe."

Spike chuckled. "That's what Anya said."

Suddenly, Xander tensed, which made Spike curse himself. They'd been doing so well.

"You were talking to her? When?"

"Before," said Spike.

"Before when?" Xander pressed.

Spike sighed. "Before I came here. Had a right good chat, we did."

"Ugh! When did you get so good to talk to? Am I the last to know?"

Spike laughed again. "Pro'lly, mate," he allowed, before deciding to push his luck. "You know she misses you, right?"

"Yeah," said Xander, his eyes back in his lap. "Right."

"I'm serious. Demon bird loves you, even if you are a berk."

Xander flashed him a look, and he considered backtracking on the insult but didn't bother. "Demon?" Xander questioned, focusing in on an altogether different part of Spike's comment.

"Bugger. You didn't know?"

"That's she's gone back to being a vengeance demon? I had no idea." After it took a minute to sink in, he said, "Makes sense, though," and Spike shrugged.

"God, I did that! I sent her back to that. Me!"

"Hold on there, don't give yourself all the credit," said Spike, who went on to say, "The girl's responsible for her own choices," after Xander looked up at him, confused.

"I know, but," he sighed. "It never would have happened if I hadn't walked out on her."

Spike swallowed. "Sometimes we walk out on people we love," he mused, hoping it was true in more than that one example. "It can be more to do with the person walking than the walk-ee."

"I guess," said Xander. He started looking closely at Spike's face and the Vampire had to turn away, slightly. "So, uh, how are things with you?"

Barking a sudden, mirthless laugh, Spike shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I hear ya," said Xander, and they fell into silence again before the carpenter said, "I'm glad you're helping Buffy. I'm obviously a mess, and Willow's lost it, and if Buffy's struggling, I'm glad she has someone."

"Even if that someone's me?" said Spike.

"Didn't I just say that?" replied Xander, but Spike held his gaze. "Oh. You– you mean. Wait." Xander shook his head. "Is there something between you and Buffy?"

Finally, Spike looked away, unable to confirm nor deny. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xander scratch his head. It was probably the first time he'd properly thought about someone other himself or Anya since the wedding that wasn't. Thankfully, he decided to leave it there.

"I, uh…" he stammered. "I should go talk to Anya."

"I think so, mate," Spike affirmed, his voice gentle.

"Yeah," he awkwardly rose to his feet. "Hey, thanks."

Spike nodded, the accompanying look again conveying more than he'd ever be able to say in words. When Harris wondered off, he reckoned it was probably the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Sighing, he took mental stock of what he'd done and where he was going, belatedly realizing that Dawn would probably be super pissed that he hadn't gone to her first. And rightly so. They were friends, and he'd opened up to Xander bleeding Harris of all people first.

Finishing his drink, Spike hopped down off his stool and made his way back out into the night air.


	3. Part Three

Three Birds, One Stone

Spike paused when he reached Buffy's front door. Ever since he'd overstepped the mark and made a mess out of professing his feelings to the Slayer the year previous and she'd reacted by taking away his invite, it wasn't something he took for granted. When she'd allowed him back in, it had really meant something, but he wasn't so arrogant to assume he had an automatic free pass for the rest of time if he didn't toe the line.

Buffy could be spiteful when it suited her – it was actually something he liked about her, in a twisted kind of way – but it also meant he could very easily end up on the outs again at any moment. Not that he was particularly in at the moment, anyway. He sighed, thinking about it.

After scenting the place to make sure she wasn't home, he knocked the door and tried his best to look casual as he propped himself against it, waiting. The lights were on and, after a minute or two, Willow opened up, frown firmly in place.

Spike slunk in, relieved at the absence of a barrier but hiding any reaction on his own face. "Dawn about?"

Tara came out of the living room and stood behind Willow. "It's ten o'clock, Spike. Dawn's in bed."

"Err, right," he said, hands going in his pockets. _Well, damn._ He wasn't used to the Scoobies being so on the ball. Back in the dreaded summer, they'd barely noticed when he'd walked Dawn home long after one on the nights he'd found her lurking in his crypt.

Not sure what else to do, he took a look around. Willow and Tara were standing comfortably close, and he could smell them on each other, as if he'd interrupted something.

Perhaps the Witch hadn't lost it after all. Or, no, she definitely had. Spike had seen her that night Dawn had got her arm broken – the night Willow had caused it. But it seemed like she'd gotten back whatever she'd lost. Harris had been behind the times on that point, but it made hope swell in Spike's chest. Maybe there was enough for all of them.

"Do you want a coffee, or tea?" Tara asked. "I don't think we have any blood in."

Spike bobbed his head and followed the pair into the kitchen, which was a mess of dishes. The fact bothered him, not because he was particularly tidy himself, but he hated the thought of Buffy coming in from work and uncompleted chores being the first thing she saw.

He turned his back to them. It wasn't like he could actually pitch in and do them for her. Not without raising eyebrows and maybe a few stakes, anyway. The Slayer would probably take the gesture all wrong and everyone else would just be weirded out, assuming he'd been taken over by some kind of neat-freak spirit.

"Is it important?" Willow asked. Spike tilted his head at her, and she clarified, "What you came to talk to Dawn about?"

"Oh," he paused. "Not rightly sure on that one."

Tara gestured for him to sit. "Is it about Buffy?"

He considered denying it, but was fairly sure his face had given him away. Buffy's name did things to him, and he could see the reaction reflected in the Witches' pitying looks.

"Have you been drinking?" Willow asked, giving him a reprieve from a verbal response to the earlier question.

Spike decided to go for the truth on that count. "Yeah, I was with demo– I mean, Anya," he said, only just catching himself from making the same error he'd done with Xander in outing his exes' recent return to demonic status. "And Xander," he added, hoping the extra info would help cover up the slip.

"Anya and Xander are drinking together? With you?" Willow didn't look at all convinced.

"Well, no. I was with Anya, then I was with Harris. Separately. I think he went off to find her when I came here."

"Oh," said Willow, still not looking confused.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Dawn joined them a minute later. "Spike? What's up? Is it Buffy?"

He greeted her in a one-armed hug. "Don't worry, Pidge, the Slayer's fine."

"Oh, good," she said. "Why are you here?"

"That's what we were wondering," said Willow.

"Why are you up?" asked Tara.

Dawn shrugged. "Cereal cravings."

Tara gave a wry smile and a disapproving shake of her head but reached into the cupboard and handed her a bowl. "One without too much sugar," she advised.

"Uh huh," Dawn affirmed, tipping out _Lucky Charms_ until the bowl was overflowing. "So, what's the sitch?"

Spike pursed his lips as he took in the scene, trying to figure out how best to proceed. He really hadn't planned on there being an audience for his chat with Dawn, though he supposed Willow and Tara would have been next on the list anyway.

"You two back together?" he asked, knowing the question was redundant but hoping it would cast attention away from himself again for a moment and give him a better chance to form his words.

Willow and Tara grinned at each other, but it was the smile on Dawn's face that warmed Spike's unbeating heart. _Well, good,_ he thought. It was nice for her to have some stability.

"What about you?" asked Tara, throwing the question back at him with knowing eyes that carried a hint of both warning and amusement. "Got something to report?"

For the third time that night, Spike was almost startled off his stool. "I knew it!" he exclaimed, his eyes going wide as he pointed a finger. He'd been pretty sure Buffy had confided something in Glinda based off how she acted at her birthday, but this sealed it.

Tara blushed and steadied her gaze on her feet. They were bare, Spike noted. Willow looked between both of them before her eyes settled on her girlfriend.

"Knew what? What's he talking about, baby?"

Tara looked up again without moving her head, her gaze partially shielded by long lashes and messy bangs. She nibbled her lip as she regressed several years. "I just thought, maybe, something might be going on," she hedged.

Dawn's late night snack lay abandoned as she demanded to know exactly what was happening.

"Why doesn't Glinda tell us what she knows, first?" said Spike, but Tara shook her head.

Willow glared at the Vampire. "Leave her alone," she demanded. "And tell us what you came here for or I'll tell Buffy to beat you up."

Spike laughed a hearty chuckle at the same time as Dawn said, "Oh, please."

"I don't think threats are the way to go," said Tara softly, placing a hand on her girlfriend's arm and causing Willow to look even more confused.

Spike sighed. He was in too deep to back out now. "Buffy told me not to say anything," he began, "But it seems she hasn't been playing by the same rules."

"She didn't mean to tell me anything," Tara said in the Slayer's defense.

Spike's eyes pinned her to the floor. "Guessed, did you?"

Tara swallowed. "Actually, she came to me a-a-about something else. S-s-she kinda broke down."

Spike's intense gaze broke as something inside of him shattered. Maybe Buffy wasn't as blasé about the whole thing as she'd led him to believe.

"Buffy broke down?" Dawn questioned. "When?"

Tara's lip took a few more indents from her teeth. "I–I shouldn't… I don't think I should say."

"No worries, Glinda," said Spike, his tone soft. "Pretty sure I could guess."

Dawn and Willow's eyes were back on him, but they were silent as they waited for him to say something else.

Spike cleared his throat. "Buffy's been having a hard time," he said. It was safe to start there, seeing as they already knew that much. "She came to me."

"Came to you?" Willow repeated. "For what?"

Spike shrugged. "A listening ear, I guess. A lack of judgment."

Willow frowned at the accusation hidden between his words. "So you guys have been talking buddies," she summarized.

"No," said Dawn. "It's been more than that, hasn't it?"

Spike hung his head. "Not of late."

Willow blinked. "You and Buffy have been… dating?" she asked Spike, then turned to Tara. "You knew?"

"Not exactly," Tara and Spike said at once.

"Wait," said Dawn, raising a hand. "I get why you were together–"

Willow interrupted saying, "I don't!" but Dawn continued, ignoring her.

"Why did you break up?"

"A lot of reasons, really," Spike admitted.

"Buffy did seem really conflicted about the whole thing," said Tara, and he nodded. "She didn't want anyone to know."

"So, what, she was ashamed of you?" Dawn questioned. Spike didn't feel the need to answer her, especially when she carried on to conclude, "She must have been worried we were gonna judge her."

"Not you, Niblet," said Spike, desperately trying to make her feel better.

Dawn would not be soothed, however. Her voice raised as she began to rant about how unfair it all was, and how much pressure everyone had been putting on her sister. "It's just so dumb! It's not like she needs our permission."

On that note – which was several decibels above comfortable human hearing, Buffy appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"What is going on?" she demanded, her eyes focused firmly on Spike.


	4. Part Four

Forthright, As Ever

Spike swallowed. "Uh, Slayer, how long you been standing there?"

Without another word, she hauled him from the kitchen into her living room by his ear, shutting the door behind them and slapping him in the head once they were out of sight from the others.

"Hey!" he protested, forgetting his objections to being manhandled a second later when Buffy fixed him with a glare.

"What the hell, Spike?"

"You said it was okay," he reminded her, the words sounding lame to even his own ears as he wondered how he ever thought the harebrained scheme would work and decided to blame the whole thing on Giles and his delicious single malt.

Buffy's glare only intensified and Spike decided to keep the rest of his excuses to himself, lest she immolate him. A second later, though, the balls and bluster routine faded and Buffy deflated into a chair.

"You really did it, didn't you?" she asked, her hands covering her face. "All of them?"

"Anya guessed," Spike told her, hoping it would soften the blow and knowing it didn't stand a chance.

Buffy groaned, peeking out from behind her fingers long enough to glance at the closed door. "Dawn didn't seem to take it well."

"What? No, she was in our corner."

Buffy's hands slipped to her lap. "Really?"

"You'd doubt her?" asked Spike.

"Well, no," said Buffy, sighing. "Not really." After another minute, she asked, "And Willow?"

"I think Red's more confused than anything, to be honest. And Tara already knew, of course." He couldn't help himself from pointing that out.

"Yeah," said Buffy, closing her eyes as shame washed over her features. "From the fact that you're still alive, I'm guessing you couldn't find Xander."

When her assumption was met with a wall of silence, Buffy's eyes snapped open again. "You told Xander?" she almost yelled.

"Well, yeah," said Spike. "He's part of the gang, ain't he?"

"Oh, god! Tell me you didn't call Giles?"

Spike frowned. "I'd forgotten him, actually," he admitted, making Buffy exhale in relief. "Hey!"

"What?"

"I did you a favor, here. Don't be looking all happy that I missed a step!"

Buffy stood up again. "A favor?" she repeated, her tone turning from dejected back to dangerous. That put Spike on the back foot again.

"Yeah," he affirmed, not quite as passionately.

"You're unbelievable!" Buffy exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

"Me?" Spike shot back. "You're a pain in the bloody arse, torturing both of us when all it took was opening your soddin' gob!"

They took threatening steps towards each other, hackles raised, when Dawn knocked the door and popped her head in a second later. "Uh, guys?"

Spike and Buffy spun apart, their breathing hard. "What?" Buffy asked, after a minute.

"Umm, it's just…" Dawn bit her lip then came the rest of the way into the room and shut the door behind her again. "Do you have to do this?"

Spike looked at her, stricken, and Buffy's face paled at catching the look.

The Slayer went to her sister's side. "I'm your guardian. On a few levels beyond the regular. I'm not gonna do anything that's going to upset you."

Dawn sighed in relief. "Good," she said, smiling. "So you'll stop fighting. The last thing I need is mom and dad two-point-O."

Spike and Buffy shared another look. "That's what's bothering you in this scenario?" Buffy questioned. "The fighting?"

"Obviously," said Dawn, looking at her sister as if she'd lost the plot. "What else?"

Buffy donned her most serious parental responsibility face and sat herself down on the couch with Dawn beside her. The sight made Spike smile despite himself.

"Do you remember Ted?"

Dawn nodded. "Sure. I mean, I wasn't actually around for it – mystical energy and stuff – but I remember."

"So you understand," said Buffy.

"Huh?" Dawn looked up at Spike, who tilted his head back at her. After a moment, her gaze returned to Buffy. "You're not seriously comparing Spike to Ted."

"I'm saying Mom brought a guy we didn't like into the family and didn't listen to us. I'm not doing that."

Dawn stood up and shook her head. "Of course you're not doing that. We're talking about Spike!"

"Who the hell is Ted?" he interjected, only to be ignored twice over.

"You're missing the point," said Buffy.

"No," Dawn insisted. "You are. This is Spike. I mean–" she gesticulated in his general direction, "He's Spike!"

"Dawn," Buffy chided.

"What?" she crossed her arms.

"Yeah, Buffy, what?" said Spike.

The Slayer rolled her eyes at him and Dawn made a gagging noise. "You guys clearly have issues, but come on! Work it out!"

Buffy frowned. "You want us to be together?"

"I want you to be happy, Buffy," said Dawn, attitude dropped and tone sincere.

"I–" Buffy began, looking between Dawn and Spike before abandoning the sentence. "This is hard."

"Duh," said Dawn. "So what?"

"So it's more complicated than– than…" she gestured around the room, frustrated at her inability to pick words from the ether.

Dawn took a hold of her sister by the arms and looked in her eyes. "Why is it complicated?" When Buffy didn't answer, Dawn pressed further. "Do you love Spike?"

Spike cleared his throat. "No need to get into all that," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Dawn looked up at him and frowned before turning her eyes back on her sister. "You can see how nervous he is, right? He doesn't even think it's possible. He's not even asking for that, he'd probably just be happy with kissing and movie nights."

"Dawn," Buffy said again, the name coming out choked.

"Tell him," Dawn replied, softly. "It's okay."

Buffy shook her head and blinked tears out of her eyes before they met Spike's. He'd stopped moving; stopped breathing as his brain shorted out. Dawn went over and gave him a hug, whispering something in his ear.

When she left the room, Buffy and Spike took a seat on the couch, their knees touching. It was a while before either of them said anything, but Buffy went first.


	5. Part Five

Five by Five?

"I can't say it," said Buffy, jutting out her chin defiantly. "I won't."

"Don't like bein' backed into a corner," replied Spike, "I get that." When Buffy blushed and he realized what he said, he couldn't help but grin. "Metaphorical corners, of course."

"Of course," Buffy agreed, dropping her eyes.

Silence returned and stretched for a few minutes more but, eventually, Spike broke it again. "You know, Dawn doesn't mean to push. She's not like the rest of them."

"They don't mean it either," said Buffy, sighing. "What did she tell you, anyway?"

Spike's grin widened, but his lips remained shut.

"Tell me," Buffy demanded. "Don't tease, it makes me–"

"Violent?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right, sorry. Forgot you got off on that."

Spike winked, then immediately caved. "She said to give you time. Not to push."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So…" Buffy balled her hands into fists. "Gahh! Why does this have to be so hard?"

"Nothin' worth fighting for is easy," said Spike, and she shook her head.

"I don't know if we've solved anything. My friends know about…" she paused, " _Things_. But their reaction wasn't the only reason I had in stopping them."

"Wasn't it?" said Spike. "You said it was killing you. That's cause of how it was, but it's not like that now."

"And how is it now?" Buffy questioned.

"Out in the open, where it has a chance."

Buffy worried her lip. "I don't know. You wouldn't really be okay with just dates and kissing, would you?"

Spike pursed his lips, pondering it. "Long term?" he answered honestly. "No."

"But short term?" Buffy pressed.

He gave her one of his doe-eyed looks. "I'd give you anything, Buffy. All the time in the world, as long as I know there's something at the end of it."

"That's fair," she allowed, her voice small.

Spike tilted his head at her. "Is it just me, or are you disappointed?"

"I'm… I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"There wasn't some small part of you thought I might actually do as you said?"

"I don't know," Buffy answered again. "It's just too much, you know?"

"No."

"Ughh!" she got up and started pacing. After a couple of laps of the living room, she turned and said, "I was using you."

"Okay," said Spike. "So?"

"So, that was a problem."

"Okay," Spike repeated.

"Is that all you can say?"

"What do you want me to say, Buffy?"

"I don't know, you're usually good at figuring it out!"

It was news to him, but he tried to follow the thought through. "Let me get this right. You're disappointed that I'm not gonna push you, and you want me to talk you into this? Bloody hell, that's all I've been doing, and it's all but made you bolt for the hills!"

"See?" said Buffy. "I'm a nightmare. You're the one who should run."

Spike stood up, placing his feet opposite hers. "Is that what this is? You pushing me to see how much I'll take, cause you're scared I'm gonna run off like all the rest?"

Buffy couldn't meet his eyes as she said, "No."

Tilting her face up to his, Spike took hold of one of her hands. "You know I'm not them."

"I know," said Buffy. "I don't think that's the problem."

"Ah," Spike realized. "You think _you're_ the problem."

Buffy only quivered in response, and he held her close.

"It's wrong," she said in a whisper, her voice cracked. "I'm wrong. I can't love."

"Rot," said Spike, his embrace tightening. "You love like no one else I know. Didn't you worry the same thing last year?"

"That was different," said Buffy, pulling away. "That was before."

"You're still the same person."

Her voice rose again. "Am I? Weren't you the one who went around, calling me a demon and saying I came back wrong?"

Spike's face dropped. "God, Buffy," he said, reaching for her again only to drop his hand when she remained out of reach. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

"But you know I didn't mean that, right? I was lashin' out."

Buffy shrugged and his self-hate hardened in his chest. She really had believed him. The whole time he'd been pissed at her friends, he'd failed to see that he had helped break her just as much.

"Sorry," he said, moving towards the door.

"Wait," Buffy snagged the cuff of his duster. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that'll leave you in peace," he answered.

Buffy released him again, with force. "You jerk!"

He blinked back at her. "What's this now?"

"You literally just said you weren't leaving!"

"Well, yeah, but," he stammered, his eyes clouded. "You don't want me to go?"

"Duh!"

"But I hurt you," he said.

"And I hurt you," she replied.

Spike swallowed, then said, "And I love you."

Buffy looked away. "Please, just," she crossed her arms. "Don't go. I won't beg."

There was no way in hell he could deny that, so he sat down again, not having the first clue of how to proceed. His eyes widened when Buffy put a leg either side of him, straddling him as she wound her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against the skin just below his ear.

"Me too," said Spike, his voice raw.

Buffy looked deep in his eyes before kissing him, slow and deliberate.

"Buffy, I don't deserve–" he began to say, when she stopped.

"We can't help who we love," replied Buffy, cutting him off with another searing look. "Forget just dating. I can't do it, and I want it all."

"Buffy?" her name was a reverent plea; a holy word from unclean lips.

"Don't give up on me," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Please."

Lost in awe, Spike kissed her back until they were breathless, panting. "Not going anywhere," he affirmed again, when they broke apart.

"Good," said Buffy, smiling. She wiped her hand across her eyes, smudging her mascara further. "God, I'm a mess."

"You're beautiful," said Spike, his hand reaching up to rest on her cheek, where the tears had dried. "I love you so bloody much."

Buffy beamed at him, unable to speak. Spike watched as she eventually got a hold of herself and a devious grin appeared on her lips.

"What?" he asked, half wary and half in anticipation.

Buffy laughed. "I'm so making you tell Giles."


	6. Part Six

Epilogue: Six Forty-Two, English Time

"Hello?"

"Watcher?"

"Spike, is that you? What's wrong? Is Buffy–?"

"Slayer's fine. She wanted me to tell you something."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Giles said, "It's almost eleven in Sunnydale. What happened?"

Spike looked around at his new girlfriend, unable to stop smiling. It was a title he'd happily have to get used to using.

"Spike?"

"Err, yeah," he scratched his head, forcing himself to focus again. "Got some news."

"Well?"

"Me and Buffy, we're together."

"Together?" Giles repeated. "At a… crime scene? I don't understand."

Spike laughed, waiting for the penny to drop. After a minute, Giles asked to speak to Buffy herself. She took the phone with shaky hands.

"Hey, Giles."

"That's you?" he questioned.

"It's me, no-robo-Buffy," she affirmed. She could practically hear him cleaning his glasses.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

Buffy swallowed, dropping her levity. "No, Giles. It's real."

"May I speak to Willow?" he asked, after another pause. "Or, no. Tara would be preferable. Is she there?"

"It's not a spell," said Buffy.

"I see."

Biting her lip, Buffy added, "It's been going on for a while. I thought you should know."

"Do you think it's wise?" asked Giles. She could tell he was trying to stay extra calm.

Looking over at Spike, Buffy answered, "Wise? No. There's always a risk with relationships."

"Indeed," said Giles.

"Come on!" said Buffy. "Tell me what you really think."

After a hesitation, Giles said, "I think you're an adult, and I'm choosing to trust your judgment."

Buffy let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you," she said, softly.

"You're welcome. Could you put Spike back on?"

"Uh, sure." She passed the receiver over.

"'Ello?"

"Spike… I guess there's no point in threatening you."

With a grin in his voice, Spike said, "Not much, no."

"I trust you'll take care of her."

"I promise," Spike affirmed, suddenly serious. "Reckon she's gonna keep an eye on me too."

"Probably a good idea," said Giles. "Probably a good idea."


End file.
